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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072584">She Does Not Bend or Break</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe'>ViaLethe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>3 Sentence Ficathon 2020 [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>16th Century CE RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>3 Sentence Ficathon, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:27:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When her daemon settles, it comes in the worst way possible.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>3 Sentence Ficathon 2020 [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>She Does Not Bend or Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the 2020 3 Sentence Ficathon, off the prompt: <i>Historical RPF, Any, Alternate Universe- Daemons</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She blames Thomas Seymour; he and his horrid weasel daemon. If it hadn’t been for him and his scissors, slashing her skirts to ribbons while her stepmother and her spaniel watched, surely Elizabeth would have been able to keep her emotions carefully controlled, under the necessary suppression; surely not felt the blend of fear and rage, confusion and shame and yes - not a little pleasure, too.</p><p>That he might settle as a dog (so gentle, so subservient, so very not her) had always been a bit too much to hope for, but <i>please, not this</i>, she thinks, watching Glorian with horrified eyes as he spreads his wings wider than she is tall, the shriek of his golden eagle form deafening in the small space, a predatory proclamation of power; he will never change again, and she knows, deep in her bones and shivering along his every feather, that the Crown can never permit them to live like this.</p>
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